


Bevy

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [244]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Fluff, M/M, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, and vice versa, at least not about love, birthday fic, not idiots for once, nothing but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7986961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bevy: noun: bev-ē: a large group of people or things of a particular kind.</p><p>late Middle English: of unknown origin</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bevy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/gifts).



> for my heart.
> 
> (and in honour of Martin Freeman's birthday - because Sherlock wouldn't be Sherlock without our King of Sass)

John opened his eyes carefully and looked around. In past years Sherlock had celebrated his birthday with a bevy of brilliant, blue balloons, in every shade, because once he happened to mention a birthday which had been ruined when Harry had taken his balloon and accidentally let it go. He tried not to mention birthdays after that one, as it took months to get rid of them all. Another year, it was a treasure hunt ending with finding Sherlock wearing nothing but a red bow in a posh five star hotel, but he had fallen asleep because it was after midnight when John had finally been able to read the handwriting on the last clue, so he fell into bed next to the lunatic and was out cold by the time his head hit the pillow. Not that the days that followed weren't amazing...god, his breathing sped up just thinking about that week, but...he hoped Sherlock had either forgotten all about it for once, or had something a bit less dramatic planned for him. Especially considering the case that had kept them up all night, which ended in a stake-out in a downpour; John managed to manhandle the idiot home and into the shower and get him warm before he came down with something, or so he hoped. 

Finally, he turned his head and found Sherlock fast asleep next to him for once. He had to smile. There was something about the man at rest that did something to his heart; one long curl had fallen over one eye, his plush, ridiculous lips were gently parted, begging to be kissed, and his hands were tucked under his left cheekbone, which was slightly scraped and beginning to bruise from last night's confrontation with a brick wielding plumber who seemed to be a foot taller and thirty pounds heavier than the detective; but it didn't stop Sherlock from going after him. Nooooo....of course not...in the end it took four of Lestrade's men to pull the two of them apart...

"Damn, John...." groused the 'World's one and only Consulting Detective.' "Don't you have any volume control for all the thoughts running through that beautiful head of yours? A man can't sleep with all the rumbling..." He moved just enough to place a single kiss on John's grinning lips then promptly rolled over and went back to sleep.

John looked at his watch, 9:00 AM already. Tea. Toast. Jam. Maybe there was a smidge left in the jar. He managed to roll out of bed though every muscle screamed at him to go back to bed, but he hit the loo, threw on his robe and went into the kitchen.

On the kitchen table that was for once remarkably spotless, almost clean enough to eat off of, but John wasn't still quite over that almost poisoning a few years back, so he always sat at the coffee table to eat, was a brand new jar of his favourite, almost impossible to find jam, an envelope and a velvet jeweler's box. John shook his head and started the kettle, popped a couple of fresh pieces of bread into the toaster then picked up the envelope, sniffed it, just in case, then having deemed it as safe, opened it.

 

John -

I know I have a tendency to go a bit overboard (a bit? John smirked.) on your birthday, so this year I've toned it down. In past years I have tried to give you days that you won't forget so you know just how important you are to me. Neither of us are good at expressing our feelings with words, at least not face to face. So, I'm going to try to write it down, hopefully you can read this chicken-scratch.

Here goes: I love you. I love you more than anyone has ever loved another person in the history of personhood. I know this for a fact. I can't even tell you all the reasons why if I had all the time in the world; I'm totally honestly exhausted for once, everything hurts, even my hair, so I have to make this brief. 

I love how you look when you wake up in the morning. I love your morning breath kisses. I love feeling your stubble under my finger tips before you shave. I love how you kiss my hair before you place a cup of tea in front of me, and how you whisper that you love me on those days when I'm still asleep when you go to work. I love your smile, I love the steely glint in your eyes when we are on a case, I swear I take on threes some days just to see that look, it does things to my heart that I will never quite be able to comprehend. I even love when you get all fussed and grumbly at me, it lets me know how much you care. You are the first to care about me in that way. I hope you will be the first and last... 

No. If I ever propose to you, it will be an utterly ridiculous extravaganza, you should know that about me already.

Please accept the gift as a small token of my deepest affection.

-S

 

"Open it. I wanted to see your face as you opened it." Sherlock placed a cup of tea and a plate of toast in front of him, then spun him around slowly and handed him the box. "Please?"

John nodded. He was barely able to breathe, let alone speak. He opened the box and shook his head. "Sherlock -"

"I, hmm...it took me months to find it, if you don't like it - I can return it -"

John placed a hand gingerly against Sherlock's slightly damaged cheekbone and blew out a breath. "No, it's beautiful, love." He took out the pocket watch and held it in his hand. It was solid, obviously made by a master, slightly battered, dented and scratched, but the patina was gorgeous. He held it to his ear and wasn't surprised to find it silent.

"I thought with all of our unfortunate experiences with ticking bombs..." Sherlock whispered to the floor.

" 'Timeless' " John read as he turned it over in his hand. He ran his fingers over the new engraving, the brightness of the letters contrasted sharply with the weathered exterior. He laid it back into the box and placed a finger under Sherlock's sharp chin.

"It's perfectly imperfect, love. As are we. I love it, and I love you." He kissed Sherlock softly then wrapped his arms around him. "My first, last and always."

"Happy Birthday, John."


End file.
